


Do you know what I'm seeing?

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, Multi, Music, Photography, Students, and larry is endgame so yeah, art student!louis, music student!harry, not much elounor I promise!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:17:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis really doesn't want to have to work with the ever-popular music student Harry Styles on his photography project... But then he really kind of does.<br/>i.e. The one where Louis just wants to photograph Harry and Harry just wants Louis to love music as much as he does and Eleanor and Zayn just keep getting in the way and Liam and Niall are just waiting for Louis to get the picture</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you know what I'm seeing?

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt on Tumblr:
> 
> Can you do a Larry fic where Harry and Louis are in school, and Louis is an art student and Harry is a Music/Theatre student. You can go wherever you want with it, but possible angst then fluff would be appreciated
> 
> As you can tell, I kind of expanded on it A LOT :P Also, title is from a Panic! song, and there's lyrics from I Have Friends In Holy Spaces

Louis has always told everyone that he reckons the rivalry between departments at his school is really fucking stupid. Well, if by always you mean since he started college here last September, and if by everyone you mean his only 2 friends, but whatever. The point is that he just can’t understand why everyone at UCA is so obsessed with the subjects they’re taking, or rather, the subjects that other people are taking which aren’t the same as theirs. It’s bloody pretentious, even by Louis’ standards. His first day on campus had felt like something out of a crappy American high school film, with students separated in the lunch hall on different tables depending on whether they were studying art, drama, music, or God knows what else. It was only as the day progressed that he realised that was the norm. He reckons (as he will tell whoever will listen whenever he’s had a couple too many drinks) that it’s probably something to do with the fact they’re all convinced their corner of the art is the most important, or the fact that artists of whatever form tend to be a bit pretentious anyway. Whatever the actual reason, what it amounts to is that interaction between students from different departments is really rather rare. Which is, of course, totally stupid.

*

However that doesn’t stop his heart from dropping pretty much to his knees when his professor announces one Monday morning that for their next project they will be working with students from other departments throughout the school. Not only does Louis not relish the idea of working with other people in general, but photography is his passion. He’s loved it ever since he first picked up a camera aged six, and has been hooked ever since, photographing everything and anything of interest that he comes across. He does not want to waste his one opportunity this year to fully explore his passion as part of his work on some student who won’t appreciate anything to do with art that isn’t related to their own department. Who just won’t get photography like Louis does. As the teacher gives out sheets assigning them their project partner and title, he can only sit and pray that it will be Liam or Niall. They couldn’t give two shits about photography between them, but at least having them as the subject of his project would be a laugh and he wouldn’t be awkward in their company. Just his luck, of course, that he glances down at the piece of paper Mr Young has placed on his desk, and sees that it reads _‘Exploring visual representations of music. Subject: Harry Styles_ ’. Harry Styles. Of fucking course. Harry Styles the music boy wonder, with a voice like the angels who’s famous around the whole school for his cherubic good looks and personality to match, and who only helps the American high school theme of this whole college by walking around surrounded by people all desperate to be his friend. Louis’ seen him around school plenty of times, and has heard enough about him to gather that he is, in fact, a prick. How lucky, then, that they should be assigned to work together, when Louis was so looking forward to this project in the first place.

*

Louis is packing away his things at the end of class, attempting to shove his A3 folder into his decidedly A4 backpack, when he hears a small cough from behind him. Turning, he sees a small dark-haired girl behind him with an optimistic smile on her face and kindly eyes. She’s been in his class since the beginning of the year along with only 20 or so other students, so he doesn’t have to think hard to remember her name is Eleanor. They’ve never really talked except to comment on a room change if they both turn up early, or maybe a quick hello if they pass each other in the corridors, but he smiles anyway and waits for her to say hello. He’s always been shy, which is just another reason why he’s not looking forward to working with a student he barely knows for a whole term.

“Hey Louis,” she starts, looking just as nervous for some reason. “I heard you got given Harry Styles for your project?” Louis nods and scrunches his face up a little to show his displeasure at the assignment.

“Yeah, I get to work with a dick for two months, lucky me,” jokes Louis, his voice heavy with sarcasm, and Eleanor giggles. Then again, Louis gets the impression that she’d probably have laughed no matter what he’d said, so he’s not sure whether to take much stock by it. Still he smiles back at the girl, and forces himself to make more polite conversation.

*

“So, um, who are you doing your project about?” Glancing down at the paper in her hand, she frowns once at the name written there like she hasn’t heard it many times before, then looks back up at Louis.

“Zayn Malik? I think he’s the one with the quiff, y’know? Theatre student but walks around like he’s a model?” Louis doesn’t know, but he nods anyway to be polite, even though really all he wants to do is get back to the flat he shares with his mate Liam and watch crap TV and not have to think about Harry Styles or anything else except which girl he wants to be thrown off America’s Next Top Model. “Yeah, I think he’s mates with Harry actually,” recalls Eleanor after a moment of awkward silence, seeming to realise that Louis isn’t really interested. “Well, I’ll, um, see you next week then,” clutching her folder to her chest, she moves to step around Louis who finally cracks a smile and responds.

“Yeah, see you – have fun with your project!” she nod-smiles, then finally leaves so Louis can go back to his physically impossible storage task. The young man shrugs confusedly at the unexpected conversation, and wonders whether Niall is willing to go out and get totally pissed that evening so he can forget about everything.

*

Louis makes his way into the music pod the next day with a heart as heavy as the camera equipment in his hands. He’s not sure why exactly he’s making such a big deal of having to work with Harry Styles, but he guesses it’s probably to do with having his routine messed with (which he’s never liked) and the fact that the boy he’s meant to doing a project on seems like exactly the sort of popular, well-to-do student who probably loves the whole separation of the subjects and ridiculous student hierarchy and all the other shit that Louis hoped he’d got away from when he left high school. Maybe he’s wrong to have formed an opinion of the guy without even knowing him, but whatever. He just doesn’t want to have to waste his opportunity to finally do photography - his one passion since childhood - on an arsehole, and as far as he can tell, that’s what Harry is. So he’s quite pleased to find the classroom he’s been assigned to work in empty when he arrives, meaning he can set up all his equipment in his peace. Admittedly, he’s not quite sure what on Earth he’s actually going to do his project about yet, but since he’s spent so much effort bringing his cameras and tripods along, he’s determined to get some use out of them.

*

After only a few minutes a knock comes at the door, but when Louis turns to see who’s there Harry is already stood in the doorway wearing a knitted beanie and a lazy smile. Louis has only seen the guy a few times around campus - most of his information about him comes from other people’s tales of the most popular boy in the school - and even then only from a distance, but he was not expecting _that_. Harry is… well, for want of a better word, he’s damn attractive. His hair is a mass of ruffled curls, his torso seems to stretch out for miles under his cotton t-shirt, and - focus, Louis, focus. In an attempt to stop himself from staring quite so obviously, he shakes his head slightly to rid it of all inappropriate thoughts and takes a step towards Harry. Unfortunately, he managed to also trip over his own feet in the process. Harry is nice enough not to laugh. Blushing like a complete idiot, Louis runs a hand through his vaguely quiffed hair and speaks.

“Um, hi.”

“Hey there,” smiles Harry confidently, holding out a hand in the hope that Louis will shake it. He doesn’t plan on doing, yet for some reason he finds himself drawn into the green of Harry’s eyes and reaching for the younger man’s hand before he can stop himself. There’s just something about Harry’s wide grin and open attitude that makes Louis want to like him. Which is more than a little confusing, since he’s been complaining about this project for pretty much a solid 24 hours now. “I’m Harry. I mean, obviously you know that already.” Louis smiles despite himself.

*

“I’m Louis - Louis Tomlinson,” thanking the God he’s never really believed in that he hasn’t managed to trip over his words like he did his shoes, Louis tried to act casual. However that’s quite difficult when he’s in the presence of such an unquestionable sex god. Louis isn’t attracted to guys - or, at least, he doesn’t think he is. He’s never dated one, that’s for sure, and despite his more than occasional lustful thoughts about other boys, what no one else knows can’t be used against him. But there’s something undeniably hot about Harry - in an entirely objective and platonic way, of course.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Louis,” Harry’s pleasure actually sounds genuine, which Louis wasn’t expecting. Maybe he’s misjudged Harry after all? As the younger man gestures past him and they both move to flop down in separate swivel chairs in the middle of the room, Louis ignores the swirling butterflies in his stomach that he doesn’t think are entirely to do with his nervousness at working with a practical stranger. While Louis gets himself comfortable, Harry plucks a black vase from where it’s leaning against the classroom and unzips it to reveal a polished acoustic guitar. Beginning to tune it absent-mindedly, he speaks again. “So, Louis, what is your project going to be about, then?” The way he pronounces Louis’ name almost takes the other boy’s breath away, and the combination of his deep, slow speech combined with the way his dextrous fingers pluck at the guitar strings is so captivating that it takes Louis a moment to be able to reply. When he does, his voice is embarrassingly squeaky until he coughs and starts again.

*

“Um, well I’m not sure yet - I mean, the theme is music, I guess, but I’m not sure how to photograph that exactly…” Louis expects Harry to get bored by his rambling, but instead the younger man is staring at him with an intensity that is almost unnerving, seemingly paying great attention to what he’s saying. Swallowing, Louis allows his voice to trail off as Harry interrupts him.

“But there’s loads of ways to photograph music!” Louis must frown at that, because Harry shakes his head and quickly continues. “OK, so you can’t, like, literally photograph the notes or whatever, but there’s more to it than that. You can photograph how music makes people feel or act, or the way musicians seem to become one with the music when they perform, or how people behave at concerts…” Harry stops and seems to realise he’s said too much; his eyes flick down towards the guitar and he begins to play something quick and catchy to break the silence that has fallen upon the two of them. Louis just stares at him for a moment, unsure how to respond to such a display of complete honesty. Eventually he just stands up and goes over to fiddle with his cameras again in order to keep his hands busy. He doesn’t even plan on taking photos at first, but before he knows it his eyes are locked on the way Harry’s hands expertly play the guitar his holding: his fingers slide along the fretboard and strum the metal of the strings to create music that Louis’ pretty sure he’s making up on the spot. All in all, it’s very impressive.

*

So it’s second nature to him to begin angling his favourite portable Kodak, which he’s carried around with him everywhere since receiving it for his 16th birthday, and quickly snapping a few pictures. Harry’s so into playing the instrument that he doesn’t even realise what Louis is doing until the final notes die away and he looks up to see the older boy crouching on the floor to angle his camera so that it captures the placid, mesmerising expression on his face.

“Hey,” he smiles, his voice more gentle than Louis was expecting, and the other student quickly backs away to avoid looking like a creeper for longer than necessary.

“I’m sorry,” he begins to explain himself. “I didn’t mean to intrude or anything - it’s just you looked so…” Harry prevents him from having to continue by shrugging and making a dismissive hand gesture.

“It’s fine - I don’t mind!” A grin tugs its way across his face. “Still think you can’t photograph music?”

“Yeah, whatever,” mutters Louis slightly abashedly, but he can’t stop himself from smiling too. Then he glances up at the clock on the wall above Harry’s head and realises it’s already midday. “Oh shit, look at the time… I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I’m meant having lunch with Liam, my flatmate, in ten minutes.” Louis is already beginning to pack away his camera equipment, but suddenly Harry is crouched down beside him, trying to help. Their hands brush over each other as they both reach for the same case, and Louis’ arm snaps back without him really knowing why. Frowning a little, Harry still doesn’t look up and just continues to pack away the tripod in his hands.

*

Once they’ve got everything back into its respective box, case or bag, they stand up almost simultaneously and Louis pauses, unsure what to say. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to say anything because Harry is talking again.

“Well, it was really nice meeting you, Louis. Same time next week, yeah?” Nodding, Louis turns away and goes to leave the room along with his equipment. Just as he reaches the doorway, Harry calls his name. Spinning back on his heel, Louis sees that the younger man is once again perched on the edge of a desk and plucking at the strings of the guitar.

“Yeah?” he asks, his heart beating overly fast for some reason. When Harry looks up, his expression radiates his usual confidence.

“I’ve got a gig this Saturday, at the student bar - you know, the Anchor? Do you wanna come along? All in the name of research of course.” Another flash of Harry’s bright white teeth is enough to have Louis agreeing with pretty much anything he could have said.

“Um, yeah, sure, that sounds good,” he stutters, wondering why his heart is suddenly doing little flip-skip-jumps inside his chest. “I, er, thanks.”

“No problem,” shrugs Harry, and then Louis is leaving the room in a dizzy haze with no more clue about the contents of his project, or how he feels about Harry, than he did in the first place.

*

“So, how was the dreaded Harry Styles?” asks Liam later, when they’re sat opposite each other in a cheap cafe drinking coffee.

“Not as bad as I thought he would be, actually,” admits Louis, causing Liam to cock an eyebrow at him.

“Really?” he asks in a way that is both surprised and annoyingly knowing.

“Yeah,” Louis says, running over the events of the past hour or so in his head. “I think I might have misjudged the guy, to be honest.” Liam just smiles, and even when Louis asks dozens of times, he refuses to say why.

*

Louis isn’t sure what he was expecting from the student gig, to be honest. He loves music, but he’s never really been into watching it live and this is the sort of place that he usually avoids due to the hordes of drunken students filling the room and the smell of piss emanating from the toilets. On the positive side, it’s only 8pm and he’s already been hit on by three girls and one guy (which he’s not proud to admit made him blush bright red and stammer for several minutes until the bloke got the message and moved on), and the alcohol is amazingly cheap. Then again, that probably ha quite a lot to do with the fact this is a student hangout, and they’re all notoriously broke. So, Louis is keeping his camera clutched close to his chest to make sure it doesn’t get nicked, and sipping on his second beer so he doesn’t end up getting embarrassingly drunk in front of Harry Styles, and wondering when exactly the band are finally going to get on stage. He’s been waiting for almost an hour, but it’s only now as the lights near the stage begin to dim and the crowd gathered half-heartedly in front of it cheer that it finally seems like it’s about to begin. Louis’ heart begins to beat a little faster in anticipation, and when Harry walks out onto the stage it’s all he can do to stop himself from whooping too. He’s not sure why. Probably he’s just caught up in the moment. However, when the band picks up their instruments and begins to play, he knows it’s far more than the thrill that being at any sort of gig would probably give him.

*

Harry onstage is just something else. Admittedly, the music is a bit hipstery for Louis’ taste (all indie guitar solos and a bassist with a quiff the size of Antarctica and glasses to match), but there’s no denying how completely into the music the boy is. His eyes often fall shut as he plays his guitar, he’s so 100% in tune with every note of every chord he plays. And his voice… it’s truly incredible. Louis knew Harry was good at music - why else would he be studying it at a supposedly prestigious arts college - and Liam had told him how good the younger man was at singing, but he could never have imagined a voice quite as magical or captivating as this. The high notes send chills down Louis’ arms, while the low ones cause his heart to flutter more than he would care to admit. He’s so caught up in the sound of the vocals that he doesn’t even listen to the lyrics. He’s sure they’re amazing, and whatever, but the fact is he’s far too caught up in the sounds Harry is making to actually make sense of what they mean. He’s not entirely certain when he stops standing with his mouth hanging open like a particularly dopy goldfish and actually starts taking photographs, but by the time the set is over (which seems like no time at all if he’s honest) Louis’ already used up half of his brand new camera film. He doesn’t even remember shooting any of the pictures. He’s stood by the side of the crowd - he’s not quite ready to breach the walls of people yet - and the back of his t-shirt is stuck to his skin with sweat from the head radiating off of them. His head throbs from the memories of the music. His heart is beating at 100 miles an hour. When Harry finds him by the bar a few minutes later, looking like he’s just set himself on fire and lived to tell the tale, Louis is still almost speechless. He had no idea music could be like that, could sound like that, could make him feel like that. Harry looks at his expression and laughs.

*

“Did you like it?” he asks, and Louis can only nod mutely. For once, words have deserted him. “Still think you can’t photograph music?” asks Harry, and his grin is a mile wide from the buzz of being onstage - a jolt of electric emotion that Louis can relate to from when he sees his artwork on display and other people admiring it. It’s not egotistical, just a feeling that maybe he’s finally done something worth its place on the wall. Louis smiles at that, but he still seems unable to say anything remotely intelligent.

“Yeah, definitely - I mean, I just… wow.” Laughing amusedly at Louis’ wonder, Harry gestured towards the camera around the other student’s neck.

“Can I see the pictures then? I mean, once you develop them?” Louis’ not sure why he shakes his head at that, but he does, and once he has done there’s no way he can take it back.

“No, not yet,” he smiles cheekily, batting Harry’s hand away from where it’s attempting to reach towards the Kodak subtly. “You can see them all when the project’s over! I have to present them all as a portfolio at the end of the term, so you can come to that.”

*

Harry pauses for a moment, head tilted to the side, then breaks out another smile.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come to that instead,” he responds cheerily, which pretty much causes Louis’ jaw to drop automatically.

“What?” he asks, barely able to believe what he’s hearing. OK, so he seems to have misjudged Harry on the whole ‘being an asshole’ thing, but the younger man is still one of the pretty, popular crowd who don’t usually spend their time going to art student’s presentations. But Harry just nods.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? I want to see myself on film, don’t I?” At that he smirks and winks and Louis thinks he might have died for just a moment.

“Yeah,” he responds into his drink, still slightly shocked. He knew Harry was nicer than he’s given him credit for, but this is more than just going the extra mile. It’s almost like Harry actually wants to be friends. Smiling bemusedly, Louis listens to Harry talk about the performance and decides he is extremely excited to develop his photos later.

* 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Louis decides he has probably never been as wrong about anyone as he has been about Harry Styles. In fact, he’s starting to wonder what exactly made him think Harry was such a douchebag in the first place, apart from the whole being smart, hot, and popular thing. As it happens, Harry has been nothing but sweet to him all the way through, asking him how the photographs turn out the day after he takes them, letting Louis photograph him whenever or wherever he likes, and inviting the older boy along to all sort of live music events. Louis ends up attending everything from a classical piano concert that Harry’s friend Ed was taking part in, to watching a guy called Dan who Harry reckons is ‘gonna be huge one day, just wait and see’ busking on a street corner. He experiences his first moshpit and ends up almost collapsing into a hyped-up Harry’s arms. He gets Harry to blag their way up to the lighting deck at a local gig, so he can have a bird’s eye view of the whole event. He photographs synchronised jumping crowds, and musicians with their hair glued to their faces with sweat, and young girls and old men sitting side by side enraptured by the same clusters of noted falling on their ears like constellations. Mostly, though, he photographs Harry. The boy is meant to be on film, and Louis is more than willing to fulfil that.

*

He has photos of Harry from every angle and in every mood and mindset: psyching himself up before a gig; lost in the music while performing; and at the crazy parties afterwards, when he lights up the room and everyone wants to know his name at least just for the night. He has photos of Harry the musician, up on stage in front of dozens of raving students who will never appreciate his music the way Louis does. He has photos of Harry the fan, jumping and screaming until his voice is hoarse just to let the band on stage know he’s listening. He has photos of Harry the roadie, and Harry the supportive friend, and Harry the daredevil, and even once Harry the crowd-surfer for just two seconds that are now caught on camera forever. The only photos of Harry the Louis doesn’t have are photos of the morning after, when the alcohol and the buzz of performing have worn off and all that’s left is the hangover and the bruises and the _memories_. Louis tries not to think about how much he wants to be able to take photos of Harry in the morning. To wake up and snap a picture of his still-sleeping form, and know that even if he wakes up he won’t have a voice left to protest with. To take sneaky shots at the breakfast table when he’s nursing the price of excess with a large mug of coffee, before leaning over to kiss away the pout that Harry puts on whenever he wants something. To photograph every callous on his fingertips from the harsh metal of the guitar strings, and press his lips to the hardened skin. All of that is really rather scary to even think about, so instead Louis takes as many photos of Harry as he can and spends his evenings developing them in his darkened flat so he and admire their beauty the next day. Liam keeps giving that little smile whenever he sees the pictures scattered across their kitchen table but Louis’ learned to ignore it by now. They’re more than just photos, he knows that, but he’s not quite sure why yet. Whatever the reason, all he knows is that he never wants to stop photographing music… or photographing Harry.

*

Louis is still recovering from a particularly wild concert the night before, which he’d attended with Harry and Niall, and at which the Irishman had decided to make it his mission to seemingly feed his friend as many shots as was humanely possible, when his professor finally finishes her lecture on the work of Dorothea Lange and the class is free to go. Louis is more than keen to get home a sleep away his hangover, but before he can leave the room, Eleanor is in front of him and smiling as usual.

“Um, hi,” says Louis, a little bewildered. Eleanor flutters her eyelashes - which isn’t normally like her at all - and looks down shyly at the textbooks sticking out of her messenger bag.

“Hey, Louis,” she begins, and Louis sighs a little internally and leans against the doorframe as he realises this conversation may last a while. Swallowing, Eleanor glances back up at him with large hopeful eyes. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a meal sometime? This weekend, maybe?” She’s blushing a little, and is clearly unusually nervous, so of course Louis is going to say yes. As Eleanor walks away with a large smile plastered on her face, Louis rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and wonders whether he’s just got himself into something deeper that he realised.

*

“So… is it a date?” asks Niall slightly confusedly at lunch, looking at Louis with an expression that is attempting to be both sympathetic and uncertain at the same time. Louis just shrugs.

“I dunno - maybe? I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” nods Liam, but that strange smile of his has been replaced with an equally unreadable frown that Louis is even less sure what to make of.

*

Louis knows that it’s probably a date when he turns up to the restaurant that Saturday and it’s one of those faux fancy (read, ridiculously expensive) affairs with red candles melting into their holders at every table and aggressively attractive waiters and Eleanor is wearing coral lipstick, which she never does. So Louis sighs, because this means he’s going to have to insist on paying for both of them at the end of the evening, but then slaps on a smile because he has to keep up appearances and, anyway, this is a date. Surely he should be pleased that he’s managed to land a date at all, let alone with someone like Eleanor. She’s funny and articulate, he knows that from their classes together, not to mention undeniably pretty and definitely in his league. So Louis greets his classmate amiable and gets them a seat in the restaurant and keeps up polite conversation throughout the evening because he’s been on plenty enough dates to know what he’s doing. Well. A few dates. He was right - Eleanor is charming and attentive and actually makes him laugh out loud at several points during the meal. There’s not exactly much chemistry between them - OK, there’s no chemistry whatsoever. But that, he decides, doesn’t really matter because at least this is a girl who’s willing to date him and it’s worth a lack of actual attraction for that. That also makes him sound like an absolute douchebag, but he can’t exactly lie to himself about that. He absolutely definitely does not think about her hair isn’t quite curly enough and her eyes aren’t quite green enough and her skin isn’t quite pale enough. Enough to be beautiful, yes. But not enough to match up to the boy who Louis certainly isn’t thinking about while on a date with a girl who has already agreed to go out with him. Louis honestly is doing a good job of forgetting Harry Style completely while he converses with Eleanor for the first hour or so. It’s all going surprisingly well, and he’s certain he has a second date already in the bag when Eleanor realises that the food she’s been served is stone cold. Keen to complain, she gestures to one of the many waiters serving customers in the overcrowded restaurant and he makes his way over. It’s only when he reaches the table and Eleanor gasps and greets him by his name that Louis realises who it is. _Zayn Malik_.

*

His heart begins to beat that little bit faster when he hears the name that he’s come to associate with Harry, but he tries to play it cool and allows Eleanor to introduce them.

“This is my friend Louis,” smiles Eleanor, placing emphasis on the penultimate to make it clear that they’re actually more, if the romantic restaurant venue wasn’t obvious enough. Zayn turns to Louis, who tries to grin at him but he doesn’t return it.

“Oh, so _you’re_ Louis?” he asks, his eyes wide in shock that Louis doesn’t really comprehend.

“Um, yeah,” replies the older student and he sees something within Zayn’s gaze seem to judge him for no reason. Well, not one that he can think of, anyway. Just as he’s about to call Zayn out on it, the quiffed boy’s boss yells at him from across the restaurant. Sighing, Zayn takes away Eleanor’s food, and when her new food arrives, it’s brought by yet another waiter. Louis and Eleanor’s conversation continues as it did before, and when the evening is over he kisses her on the cheek before making arrangements for them to go see a movie next Friday. He knows what he’s doing. Eleanor smiles and nods and blushes, and Louis tries to ignore when he catches Zayn glaring at him when they leave the restaurant. He just doesn’t know what that guy’s problem is, honestly. Once the evening is over, Louis ends up at home watching crappy TV and wondering why he doesn’t feel excited at having landed a second date. But not quite as much as he wonders why he suddenly has a bad feeling in his stomach about Eleanor and Zayn Malik and, most importantly, Harry Styles.

*

The next day, Louis turns up to the music classroom where he usually meets with Harry twice a week to take photos and discuss their project and is surprised to find it empty. Normally he’s the one who’s ridiculously late, and Harry is usually there already playing guitar or mucking around on one of the keyboards. But he sits down and waits patiently for his fellow student to arrive - for a full quarter of an hour. When Harry finally shows up, he doesn’t have coffee but he does, for some reason, have Zayn. The dark haired lad is clinging to Harry’s waist like a monkey, and keeps staring at him in a way that makes Louis glance away uncomfortably. He waits for Harry to introduce him, but strangely the teenager doesn’t. He just stands in the doorway and lets Zayn’s fingers card through his curls until _finally_ he turns to Louis and mutters a brusque ‘hello’.

“Hi there,” responds Louis cheerily, trying to brighten the atmosphere a little. Zayn smiles and waves back at him, however Harry remains silent and simply radiates anger for no apparent reason. Eventually he mutters something into the room about only being a moment and drags Zayn off down the corridor. But frankly Louis has done enough of waiting, and after three weeks of thinking he was wrong about him, Harry is really starting to piss him off. So after a minute or so he goes searching for the two students and regrets it the moment he stumbles across what he’s looking for.

*

Harry has Zayn pinned against a wall and is sucking oxygen out of lungs like he can’t breathe himself without it or something. Their faces appear almost fused together in the heated embrace; Louis gasps deliberately gasps loud enough for them to overhear him then leaves quickly to return to the classroom. He doesn’t want to have to watch the frankly emetic sight of Harry kissing someone else. He doesn’t know why this whole situation is making him so uncomfortable and downright despairing inside, because really it isn’t even any of his business. Except that it kind of is. The thing is, Louis knows he thinks Harry’s attractive, in a not entirely platonic and objective sense, but up until this point he’s been able to ignore it, or at least push it to the back of his mind so he doesn’t have to think about it. Now that Zayn has entered the picture (and really, Eleanor’s presence in it ought to have altered his behaviour before this, but he knows he’s not exactly being a great human being when it comes to that), it’s like a barrier between Louis and Harry has suddenly been erected. The fact that Harry appears to have deliberately built the barrier himself is just too complicated for Louis to contemplate. The point is that now Louis has to confront the feelings he’s been hiding even from himself all this time, simply to remind himself that they are now absolutely impossible. Harry has Zayn now, and he’s meant to have Eleanor, so he might as well just face facts and be happy for Harry. If only it were that easy.

*

Sitting himself down at one of the desks back inside the classroom, he thankfully doesn’t have to wait too long for Harry to join him. Except when he does, the tension in the room is as thick as suffocating smoke, and they’re both barely talking to each other. Louis doesn’t know what is happening between them, or why this has just been brought on now after so long of what he considered to be a true friendship, but he has to try and stop it somehow.

“So, Zayn’s a lucky guy then,” he tries, hoping to break the ice so they can go back to the routine that Louis has grown so comfortable with. Harry gives him a look that is practically murderous, and Louis is left wondering what on Earth he’s done wrong. The acidic tones dripping from Harry’s lips, however, soon make it clear.

“And Eleanor’s a lucky girl.” Louis feels all his inhibitions from the night before come rushing back to him, and in that moment he feels sick to his stomach. What the hell has being caught on a date with a girl he doesn’t even like that much done?

*

The rest of their meeting is awkward to say the very least. Louis is confused and (though he hates to admit it) really rather upset at Harry’s behaviour, even though he doesn’t exactly have a reason to be. And Harry… Well, Harry is in a worse mood than Louis has ever seen him in before, including the time that he managed to break three guitars during one performance and then one of the amps exploded. He’s scowly and unresponsive and even quieter than usual as he just sits there playing moody guitar solos and deliberately making his body difficult to photograph. This behaviour only serves to make Louis even more confused, and he’s relieved to look up at the clock and see that the hour is finally over. Without even bothering to make up a legitimate-sounding excuse, he wishes Harry goodbye and leaves. The other boy doesn’t even look up at him. As Louis walks down the hallways that he’s come to know just as well as those in the art pod, he wonders how exactly it came to this in the space of one day. Now he knows, of course. He knows that Zayn must have told Harry that he saw him with Eleanor last night, and that now Harry is trying to… what? Make him jealous? It seems like the most obvious reason for suddenly dating another guy and practically rubbing it in Louis’ face, but what reason would someone like Harry have to make the older boy jealous? Harry already has amazingly good looks and a sparkling personality and bucket-loads of popularity. Why is it only now that he wants Louis to be jealous of him? Unless… but that’s surely impossible. There’s no way that the other student could be attracted to him - is there? It would make sense in explaining everything that has happened to him today, but the idea itself is too ridiculous to contemplate. Harry could have anyone he wants in or indeed outside of the school - someone like Zayn, with stunning looks and effortless cool and everyone knowing his name. Why on Earth would he be attracted to Louis? There must be some other reason why he’s clearly trying to make Louis jealous, but whatever it is he just wants it to be over as soon as possible.

*

“Well… it’s kind of working, isn’t it?” suggests Liam later, sounding rather awkward but clearly is meant to be sympathetic.

“What do you mean?” snaps Louis, then sighs and apologises. He’s annoyed and confused, but it’s impossible to be mad at Liam. The other boy shrugs it off and explains.

“I mean, he’s trying to make you jealous, and you are - aren’t you?”

“I am not jealous!” cries Louis indignantly, shocked and embarrassed. Then he notices Liam has that smile on his face again, and he decides to shut up and drink until nothing matters any more.

*

The next two weeks are frankly just awful. Louis still doesn’t know what on Earth is going on between him and Harry, but he does know that they don’t see live music any more, and in the only time they do spend together in the music department twice a week they barely communicate. Louis doesn’t even dare to take pictures for fear of invoking a confrontation, and anyway he’s never in the mood. The point of this project is for him to explore and learn about music, and he can only do that when Harry is there to teach him. Without Harry, this project would amount to nothing. Now that Harry is drifting away from him so fast, he’s starting to worry that it may remain forever unfinished, a constant work in progress. He can’t even ask Harry questions anymore because they don’t speak. But both he and Harry go through life pretending they’re fine and that this is normal, when in fact it’s clearly anything but. Louis goes on several dates with Eleanor, too, each more boring and repetitive than the last. She’s a nice girl and everything, but Louis’ starting to think that that’s all there is to her: ‘nice’. Plus the fact that he’s possibly a closeted raging homosexual attracted to a guy who’s completely out of his league doesn’t help things either. But he keeps things up with Eleanor because she’s his first college girlfriend and he gets lonely sometimes and, anyway, he doesn’t want to break her hearts because he reckons he knows pretty goddamn well how that feels now. They go to the cinema and to walk Eleanor’s dog together and to several drunken house parties as a couple because they are students, after all.

*

Now it’s officially their two week anniversary and they’re in what is pretty much the same restaurant only with a different name eating food that is spelt wrong in the menu. Eleanor is wittering on about something she did during the week that Louis really couldn’t care less about but is nodding along to as if he’s interested. Really, he can’t stop thinking about this morning when Harry said something about growing tired of a routine only to realise you miss it when it’s gone, and he really wants to try and figure out what that means. Does Harry feel the same way as him about how they used to be after all? Was he, in fact, referring to his relationship with Zayn? Suddenly Eleanor stops midsentence and her expression clouds over, causing Louis to look up suddenly from where his gaze has been fixed on his fingernails.

“Are you even listening?” she demands, in the tone of someone who knows what the answer is going to be but that they won’t believe it. Even as Louis hesitates for just a second too long, he knows he’s been rumbled.

“Yes,” he tries, but his voice is yelling ‘no’ and Eleanor’s no fool, she can hear it just as clearly.

*

“I swear to God you never listen to a word I say,” she begins, and Louis suddenly thinks that he really needs to get out of this relationship fast if this is the way things are going, because this is how his mum and stepdad used to fight and they were married for years. However it seems Eleanor is doing a pretty good job of trying to end things herself from the way the pitch and temp of her voice suddenly rise to fill more of the restaurant than Louis would like. “You’ve been nothing but miserable these past few weeks, and I don’t know why because the only thing that’s changed since then is you dating me! I’ve been trying to be nice to you and hope that it will pass, but now you don’t even bother to pay attention to me? I really don’t know why I bother!” With that she throws down her napkin overdramatically and storms out of the building clutching her bag and leaving a stunned Louis wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now.

*

Louis ends up having to pay for both of them, which is not only unfair but also ridiculously expensive considering he only has enough to pay for his half of the meal with enough left over for rent. He’s left broke and humiliated and desperate to get away from the restaurant and never go back. Mostly, though, he’s just annoyed at having been dumped. Or, more accurately, because of the reasons behind his being dumped. It shouldn’t have been that hard, really, to take a girl on a date and actually pay attention to her for more than a minute at a time! But of course his mind had been too focused on his own life, and in particular on that damn Harry Styles who has now not only made him a confused wreck on a twice-weekly basis with regards to his emotions or whatever, but has also lost him the only girlfriend he’s had at college so far. Quite possibly the only girlfriend he will have at college, if his secret thoughts and fantasies are to be believed, since for longer than he’d care to admit they’ve contained only guys. Well. One guy. He’s planning on going home and getting drunk and moaning to Liam about why women have to cause a scene all the time. Then he remembers that Niall’s actually managed to drag the usually practically teetotal Liam out clubbing for once, and neither of them will be in until way past midnight. Not exactly relishing the idea of going back to a cold, empty flat, Louis finds himself wandering around the college campus listlessly for want of something to do. Sighting an unoccupied bench by the side of what is less of a park and more of a patch of scrubby grass decorated with a lone tree, he sits himself down and rests his chin in his hands.

*

He’s not usually one to throw himself a pity party, but considering he’s just been dumped he reckons he has a reasonable excuse. So he sighs a lot and wonders why he always has such bad luck with relationships, and is generally so caught up in his own small hardships that he doesn’t even realise there’s someone stood behind him. That is, until the shadowy figure sits down beside Louis on the bench. Confused, Louis glances over at what he presumes is a stranger, before catching sight of the curls sticking out from under the jacket hood and realising it’s Harry. That is… not as surprising as it probably should be. For a moment there’s silence. Then Harry finally speaks.

“Hi,” mutters the younger man loudly in the quiet of the deserted campus. He sounds strangely under confident, and Louis notices his slumped posture and the lack of the usual glow in his aura that he’s come to associate with the constantly popular. But he doesn’t say anything. What is there to say? I just got dumped by a girl because I couldn’t stop thinking about you? You’re so much more attractive than her anyway? Would it be OK if I kissed you now? Obviously, none of these are even remotely appropriate under the circumstances. So the silence continues, stretching thin until Louis just wants to pick holes in it and let his emotions that he has to constantly keep under wraps around Harry pour through. “What’s a sensible young man like you doing her at 11 on a Friday then?” asks Harry with a forcedly light tone in his voice. Louis doesn’t even crack a smile.

*

“I got dumped,” he admits, not even bothering to try and sound that upset about it. Because, to be honest, it’s not the being dumped that’s upsetting him. It’s the fact that he knows exactly what stopped his relationship with Eleanor from working, and it has everything to do with the green eyes teenager currently sat next to him. Harry scrunches up his face sympathetically, and for a moment he looks as though he’s about to reach over and touch Louis’ arm comfortingly. He stops himself just in time.

“Sorry to hear that, mate,” he says, and although Louis expects himself to flinch at the nickname, it actually seems to relax him. He can’t help it - there’s just something about Harry that calms him down and makes him feel warm and fuzzy, as well as making him want to press him against a wall and kiss him until his lips are bruised and his eyes are dark with lust. “I might not be the best person to comfort you, then.”

“Why?” asks Louis gently, more gently than he should do under the circumstances.

*

Harry pauses for a moment, or maybe it’s just time slowing down.

“I just recently became the dumper, you see.” Louis isn’t even going to pretend his heart doesn’t skip a beat at that.

“Oh,” he says, trying to play it cool and knowing that he’s failing miserably even as he does so. “So, er, you dumped Zayn?” Harry nods, not looking particularly upset by this information.

“Yeah.” Just as Louis is trying to work out what on earth to say next, when suddenly the heavens open above them and out of nowhere it begins to rain cats and dogs. All of a sudden Louis’ hair is becoming plastered to his head, and the raindrops are bouncing off the pavement, and the whole absurdity of the situation is so wonderfully weird that Harry actually starts laughing. Then Louis is laughing too, even though he’s not sure why, and the tension is suddenly broken as they laugh and scoot towards each other subconsciously as though trying to shelter themselves from the rain with each other’s bodies, and Louis feels more light-hearted than he has done in months.

*

His giggles are only just beginning to subside when to his utter surprise Harry starts singing. It comes out of nowhere, just like the rain: one moment there’s laughter, and the next the air around them is full of Harry’s voice that Louis, as always, just wants to melt into.

_“Take a chance, take your shoes off, dance in the rain_

_And we’re splashing around_

_And the news spread all over town_

_I’m not complaining that it’s raining_

_I’m just saying that I’d like it a lot more than you’d think_

_If the sun would come out and sing with me…”_

Before Louis knows what he’s doing, he reaches for the Kodak camera around his neck and is raising it to his eyes to capture the moment in front of him. It’s just so beautiful he wants to keep it forever, so that he never forgets the way the raindrops gather on the end of Harry’s eyelashes, or the rainbows shining in the puddles from the small beams of sunshine peeking through the clouds, or the position of Harry’s lips as he lets the honeyed notes slide past them. He regrets it the moment the flash goes off, and Harry’s voice instantly breaks off too. Suddenly there’s only silence and a camera between them, and Harry’s eyes are blown wide and Louis can’t stop staring at his lips.

*

Then without having moved, it seems, they’re kissing. It’s like no other kiss Louis has ever had - and not just because his partner is male. It’s more to do with the way Harry’s lips feel against his own, so soft, like a girl’s but so much better, and the warmth of Harry’s body seeping into his own, and how his hand lifts up and curls into Harry’s hair as his lips part gently to let Harry’s tongue slide inside of his mouth in a way that has never felt so intimate before to Louis. The rain is plastering his clothes to his skin, and he’s going to be soaking by the time they’re done, but he honestly doesn’t think he’s ever cared less. All he can think about is how he’s _kissing Harry goddamn Styles_ and Harry is kissing him back, and surely nothing in the world could be better than this right here in the rain.

***

Epilogue

Louis has always had a habit of fidgeting when he’s nervous. His fingers tap anxiously against his thighs when he sits down, and then against the table, then when Liam hands him his stack of photographs to stop him from ‘making that bloody annoying noise’ he flicks between them over and over, shuffling and reshuffling as the shiny paper slides under his fingertips. It keeps him occupied, but does little to set his mind at rest. Thoughts of his work and his presentation and Harry fill his head. He doesn’t even want to think about the public speaking he’s about to undertake - that would only make his breathing irregular and his heart beat too fast and his mind cloud over with worry. Thinking about Harry is much easier.

“Stop stressing Lou, you’re going to be fine!” an Irish accent calls out suddenly from across the room, startling Louis so much that he jumps in his seat. Looking up, he sees Niall come bounding across the room towards him like an excited Labrador, a huge grin stretching across his face. He plonks himself down on a chair opposite Louis and begins helping himself to biscuits. When he speaks again, crumbs spray everywhere. “Look, I can see you’re working yourself up about all this - you’ve got that look in your eyes that Liam gets whenever you ask him maths questions. Don’t worry about it! Your prof already said you’re guaranteed an A, didn’t he? All you have to do is go up on that stage and show people pictures of your boyfriend. God knows you do that to me enough anyway!”

*

“He’s not my boyfriend,” mutters Louis, blushing, although he can’t stop himself from laughing at Niall’s comments.

“Oh really?” raising an eyebrow, Niall stares at Louis until the older boy is forced to look down at the pictures in his lap for the hundredth time that morning.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, just as his professor opens the door to the small room at the university halls which he’s been sat in for the best part of an hour.

“Louis! There you are!” smiles Mr Young in a relieved tone of voice. “Your presentation’s about to start - Sean had to drop out at the last minute so we’ve moved yours forward.” Louis gulps. It’s finally here: his big moment, when he will have to go in front of his whole class _and_ a board of examiners to present the work he’s spent the past week desperately preparing. As he stands up on only slightly shaky legs to follow his teacher out of the room, he sees Niall shoot him a thumbs up before scooting past him to take his place in the auditorium where Liam is already sat. Louis focuses on trying to breathe. His feet seem stick to the floor as he drags them along the corridors until suddenly he’s ascending the steps onto the stage and, holy fuck, _this is actually happening_. Taking a deep breath, he glances down at his notes before finally looking up at the audience.

*

It’s not huge – mainly just parents and supportive friends, along with a journalist from the school newspaper – but his eyes instantly try to pinpoint Harry. Just the sight of his face would be enough to calm Louis down until he’s reassured that he will talk at a normal pace, but no matter how hard he searches, his project partner is nowhere to be seen. Awkward silence has descended on the room, and he realises he has to begin before it deepens, but his heart is drooping at the realisation that Harry hasn’t managed to keep his promise after all. Gulping, he clears his throat and begins his prepared speech.

“I have to admit I was a little disappointed when I was told what the subject of my assignment this term. And not just because of the rivalry between departments that this school seems to excel in.” A small ripple of amusement rolls through the crowd. Louis feels himself begin to relax. “The thing is, I love photography. But as far as I was concerned, you can’t photograph music! It has to be listened to, not seen.” He pauses, looks out into the crowd. He’s talking too fast, he knows that, he has a habit of gabbling when he’s nervous and as far as anxiety goes, this takes the biscuit. So he stops to take a breath and slow down. That’s when he sees him. From the side entrance at the back of the hall, Harry is attempting to sneak in unnoticed by the other students and teachers. In his hands, the curly haired boy holds a nondescript carrier bag, but his face is apologetic and his eyes quickly find and latch onto Louis’. They’re full of ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘I love you’s and Louis suddenly feels so much more comfortable with public speaking than he knew was possible. As Harry steals a seat at the back, Louis smiles and continues.

*

“But it turns out that even though you can’t actually photograph the music itself, there’s much more to music than that. A great musician told me that,” his eyes linger on Harry for just a second long enough for the teenager to wink and grin widely. Louis knows it’s inappropriate or whatever, but he just wants to blow Harry a kiss and invite him up onstage with him. He doesn’t, of course. The pictures he’s about to show are close enough to that anyway. “So, these pictures show what I’ve learned music can be, and should be, and their subject is the person who taught me all that. I hope you enjoy them.” There’s a smattering of applause from the audience, as Louis clicks a button on his laptop and the projector screen above the stage begins to play out his slideshow of photographs. He doesn’t look up at the screen during the time; he doesn’t need to, he’s seen every picture a million times over, has studied every detail of them to gain a true understanding of everything he was once ignorant to, and that it took a curly-haired singer with a habit of singing at random moments and playing guitar when he’s nervous to teach him. Instead he watches Harry watching the pictures, delighting in the way his eyes widen and his jaw goes slack in his fingers as the progression of images continues. Harry has never seen any of these pictures before – Louis’ made sure of that – and he seems to be entranced by them in the same way Louis was when he first discovered photography. Louis makes a mental note to tease Harry about narcissistic later, but for now he just wants to bask in the glory of knowing that Harry actually likes the pictures. And that is worth far more to him than a number on a page from the exam board. The green of Harry’s captivated eyes glints in the hall lighting, and Louis can’t help but wonder if the adoration on his face whenever he sees the younger man is just quite as obvious.

*

Later on, Louis finds himself caught up in having to arrange his photographs on the wall in the main section of the art department, trying to decide which of the dozens he wants to put on display are the best when they all feature the boy who in his eyes is nothing short of perfect. He’s so caught up in choosing between a minimalist shot of an empty arena once everyone has left, and Harry up on stage in a monochrome blur of flashing lights and cameras, that when hands circle his waist and pull him backwards he almost screams out in shock.

“Don’t do that!” he laughs, turning to see Harry standing there looking like an adoring idiot. “You frightened me half to death, you muppet!” Harry just smiles like that was his plan all along (which it probably was, to be honest) and leans forwards to capture Louis’ lips in a quick kiss.

“You. Are. An. Amazing. Photographer.” Harry tells Louis with complete sincerity, punctuating each word with a kiss. Louis flushes like he always does when he receives praise, and Harry giggles because he loves to make Louis blush whenever he can.

*

“Oh really?” asks Louis, quickly regaining his composure and trying to get the upper hand this time. “Then how come you couldn’t even be bothered to turn up on time?” Now it’s Harry’s turn to blush a deep crimson red that shouldn’t be attractive but totally is, then to Louis’ surprise he heads over to the corner of the room where his mysterious plastic bag is perched on a table.

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” he begins, the polythene rustling as he reaches into it and withdraw something blocked from Louis’ view. “But the garage wasn’t open so I had to go all the way to TESCO to get these for you.” At that he spins back around to face Louis, and in his hands is the most perfect bouquet of flowers Louis has ever seen. Not that he’s seen many wrapped bunches of red roses before in his lifetime, but whatever. The point is that it’s perfect, and it’s from Harry, and Louis wants to do something really embarrassing like crying because he’s never been given flowers before. Then Harry drops to one knee in front of him and holds out the flowers like he’s asking for Louis’ hand in marriage. Which, at this moment in time, he would totally give to him in a heartbeat. Taking the bouquet in his hands, he can’t stop himself from raising the buds to his face and inhaling deeply, taking in the sweet perfume of the roses themselves mixed with the unmistakable scent of _Harry_.

*

Suddenly he realises something.

“Hang on, you were going to get me cheapo flowers from the garage around the road?” he asks jokingly, mock-horrified. But then Harry’s lips are against his own and the flowers are swiftly balanced on a nearby desk, and all he can concentrate on is the saccharine taste of Harry’s mouth and the feel of his hands against the starched material of his shirt and how he’s pressing him against the door to a supply closet.

“Is this thing locked?” asks Harry breathlessly when they finally break apart, and Louis can only shake his head, words having deserted him. With a filthy grin, Harry reaches for the door handle and drag them both inside of the darkened interior. The last thing Louis sees before lights are no longer necessary is Harry’s wide smile and gleaming white teeth and he can only hope that he never has to stop making Harry Styles smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was crap. Maybe you liked it though?


End file.
